Card Captor Sakura 1. Tales Painted on Porcelain

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Disclaimer: All rights and privileges to Card Captor Sakura and all related art, characters and story are trademarks and property of CLAMP, Nelvana, Kodansha, NEP21, Tokyo Pop and associated parties. The characters of these works are used without permission for the purpose of entertainment only. I, Hally Dang, do not claim Card Captor Sakura and all related art, characters and story as my own property.

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Forsaken  
_by Hally Dang_

They leave us so to the way we took,  
As two in whom they were proved mistaken,  
That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook,  
With mischievous, vagrant, seraphic look,  
And _try_ if we cannot feel forsaken.

_In Neglect_, Robert Frost

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( Zero ) _________________________ Tales Painted on Porcelain ___ [ prologue ]

/_I suppose you have decided?_/ the question hung in the air like a foreboding storm. His words were received only by a deafening silence. He was not pleased. A dangerous fury radiated off of him like heat. He looked as though he was ready to strike out at something; but he did not speak again.

She bit her lip. This was much more difficult than what she had imagined. She remained in silence. He cast her an expecting glance. His eyes were of an inclement glacial blue. She shivered slightly under their intense gaze. But she did not yield to their coldness.

He did not like this. The raging silence clawed at him, for he knew its significance. He closed his eyes and let out a burdened sigh. His entire being relaxed with his exhaled breath. The clandestine chains were lifted off; now all that was left was he and he alone.

/_I see. It has been determined._/ he murmured softly. His voice no longer possessed his earlier severity. His face softened. There was nothing but a hallow desperation left in the air.

She suddenly made an almost violent turn to face him. Her dark curls made a graceful swirl in the air and settled gently on her shoulders. Her expression remained indifferent. Her amber eyes gave off a golden glow. She refused to speak still.

He stepped towards her. He reached out his arm to touch her. He was lost of his poise and assurance. /_Is this where we end, Cecilia?_/ he asked airily.

She remained motionless. A soft frown settled upon her lips but did not take away from her elegance. /_Please. Do not do this to me._/ she pleaded in an almost inaudible voice. Her eyes shimmered under the moonlight.

This time, it was he who beheld the reticence. He waited for her to once more.

She closed her eyes and bit her lip again. A forlorn grief replaced the apathy on her face. She was breaking slowly. /_I'm sorry._/ her voice was grating. /_I am so very sorry, my Clow Reed._/

He allowed the words to hang in the air before continuing. /_I see._/ he stated simply. His eyes held her for the briefest of moments. He could not stand for the despair laced within her words.

She turned away to avoid looking at him. There was a pause before her composure returned to her once more.

/_There are times when matters are bigger than ourselves. We cannot be selfish when everything had come to this. It was inevitable._/ her voice was rich and sonorous and amazingly neutral. He winced at her nonchalant tone. She did not look at him.

It took a moment before he could speak again. /_So you knew._/ there was hint of repentance in his voice. /_You wound me._/

She looked at him with accusing eyes. /_I _saw_. In a dream._/ she corrected him. /_I never knew it would be like this. After all we've done to forestall his rising._/

Her words were all lost upon him now. He did not care for it. He pulled out a chair from the great rose wood escritoire. /_What did he ask of you?_/ he asked in a listless voice barely distinguishable.

She could not see his face. He was sitting, now, with his back towards her. Her throat was dry and tight. She was unable to answer him.

/_What on earth did you concede to?_/ he asked again in a louder voice.

She took a step towards him. She placed a hand on his left shoulder as if to steady him for her response. His sorcerer robe felt rough and cold to her touch. She felt him shudder to the weight of her hand.

/_This is the only way. You know as well as I that he will not stop until he has what he lusts._/ her voice was barely a whisper. She knew he would not listen to her reasoning but she tried nonetheless. /_This is all we can do to stop him now._/

There was a pregnant silence between the duo in the athenaeum of the Reed Manor. The fates had passed their judgment. It was all lost now. Even an omnipotent magician could not hinder what was to be.

/_When are you leaving?_/ he asked in false aplomb. He was tormenting himself, he knew.

She backed away from his sitting form. She could not bear his malaise. /_Dawn._/ she managed to choke out of her aching bosom.

They did not have much time. It was past midnight and silence reigned once again.

He suddenly stood up from the escritoire in one swift graceful movement. He held her ochroid eyes. /_Don't go._/ he implored.

She shook her head. It could not be done. She had made her choice. /_Forgive me, my dear Clow._/

His eyes ached a bewitching blue. /_Cecilia._/ he spoke her name in a heartbreaking expression.

She tore her attention away from him. She could not look at him. /_It had already been determined._/ her words mocked his previous statement.

/_Must this be our journey's end?_/

/_In our beginning there was our end._/ she replied simply. He must have understood her allusion for he did not speak again. /_Clow, let us depart in satisfaction. I do not wish to quarrel._/ she said in a mild voice. She did not need this.

He nodded blandly. She saw the pain in his eyes, echoing her own grief. The air was so thick with despair that it was hard to see. She felt as though she might suffocate on all her sorrows. Perhaps she was already.

Neither of them spoke again. Suddenly, she took a step towards him. She warped her arms around his neck. Her sudden movements startled him. He lifted her delicate frame to him and bestowed her with a soft kiss. His hands clung to her, refusing to let her go.

She tore herself away from his embrace. She shook her head. A single tear escaped. It glistened faintly under the pale moonlight. She needed to let him go before she couldn't. She backed away.

He closed his eyes. He knew what this meant. The inescapable fate of those who are condemned with power; it was all lost now. Kismet had bequeathed him with many duties. Now it has asked of him the greatest sacrifice of all. He must relinquish her.

/_Au revoir, Madame André._/ he finally said. His voice was brimming with a dreadful hopelessness.

Her eyes were now red from weeping. She did not want him to see her this way. /_Farewell, Clow Reed._/ she returned.

She picked up her long gossamer skirts and turned away. She stopped at the door. She stole a final glance at the silhouette of her beloved before leaving him standing alone in the athenaeum with only the scent of lilacs in the air.

And it was done.

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Author's Note: You have no idea how much I've struggled with this prologue. I must have gone through five drafts before I settled upon this one. The first few drafts were of a letter written by Cecilia André explaining her relationship with Clow Reed and how they departed. However, I was not pleased by how it turned out. I couldn't capture the mystery and tragedy surrounding the two characters. That was why I decided to write about the scene where they said their final good-byes. Again, this version also took me through several drafts. It was a good thing I wrote this during the winter holidays or I would not have been able to finish it.

The entire plot of "Forsaken" alludes back to this prologue. The history behind Cecilia André and Clow Reed will be slowly revealed throughout the story. I've taken great care in fabricating the characters, plots, and themes of "Forsaken" so I hope you will enjoy the mystery and drama of it all. I promise, all questions will be answered by the end. All the pieces will fall into place.

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I love constructive criticism. Tell me what you think of my writing. Please review before you leave.


	2. The Gardens of Eden No More

You see love a tight thorny thread  
that you spin in a circle of gold.  
To have me, to hold me a token  
for all to see: captured to be yours alone.

_Time_, Sarah McLachlan

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( One ) _________________________ The Gardens of Eden No More

She decided to remain on the balcony.

She looked out across the ocean of ornate evening gowns and black tuxedoes below her. Swirls of blazing colors and glittering jewels mingled with scents of exorbitant perfumes and cologne filled the extensive Renaissance ballroom. The soft light from the line of great French crystal chandeliers gave the room a mild heavenly glow. She watched the dancing couples moving elegantly around the center of the polished wooden floors. The small symphony gathered at the far end of the hall was playing Vavaldi, but the endless chatter obscured the delicate chamber music.

Men, both young and old, with designer tuxedoes adorned with platinum-diamond cufflinks and watches were everywhere. There were even more women dressed in the finest gossamer and chiffon gowns embellished with millions of dollars worth of gemstone jewelry. The women gathered in groups laughing and gossiping about their supposed acquaintances or of the latest fashionable styles. A sort of condescending deportment was thick in the air. She did not have the heart to join them.

"I thought I would find you here," a clear masculine voice said from behind her.

A pair of bemused sapphire eyes met her gaze as she turned to face the speaker. A soft smile settled upon her lips. "You mustn't sneak up on people like this, Eriol," she said in her silvery soprano.

He gave a short chuckle. "Come," he said as he took her hand. "Join me in the ballroom. The guests would worry if they do not meet their lovely hostess tonight."

She laughed. "Of course, my dear. How thoughtless of me." She allowed him to guide her to the spiral staircase leading back to the ballroom.

"They are here tonight," he suddenly said.

She stopped in the middle of the staircase and pulled him around to look at him. "Oh?" her voice fluttered and her honey eyes flickered slightly in the dim light.

The symphony finished the last chords of Vivaldi's Summer and, after a brief paused, the sound of Mozart's Symphony No. 41 traveled through the ballroom. She waited for him to say more.

"I invited them to dinner tomorrow evening," he told her. His azure eyes held her. "I do hope you won't mind," he added.

The words hung in the air for a fleeting moment. "No, no. That's fine," she replied. Her voice returned to its earlier tone and she dismissed his statement with a light wave. She started down the velvet carpeted spiraling staircase again.

He was not convinced. "Chantal," he called to her. "Please. Allow me to introduce them."

She stopped at the bottom step and looked up at him standing above her. She raised one elegantly gloved hand and beckoned to him. "Let us join them then," she called up to him sweetly.

He was at her side shortly. He placed a hand on her small waist and directed her across the ballroom. They stopped at several banquet tables to greet familiar faces and associates.

Her snow-white evening gown of the finest Italian chiffon made faint sweeping sounds as she walked. Showing off her pale back, the strapless dress hugged her courtly form flawlessly. A Victorian diamond studded choker hung around her elegant swan neck. Her cinnamon hair was held gracefully high with an array of two-carat diamond clips. She did not wear a lot of make-up like many other women present. Her curving lashes were naturally long and dark. Her lips were of a soft blush-rose.

"You look exquisite, mon chere," he whispered to her ear.

She gave a light laugh. "You flatter me, Eriol," she said as he led her to a small group of three at the far corner of the ballroom. Three pairs of eyes settled upon her as they stepped closer.

"Eriol-kun!" one of the woman of the group exclaimed. The woman had the most brilliant emerald eyes. Her genuine smile seemed to hold with it the light of the world. She was dressed in a loose rose colored spaghetti strapped evening gown, which glittered with her every movement. She wore a single ruby pendant the size of a large pearl. Her amber hair was neatly piled atop her head. "We were just beginning to think that you have forgotten about us."

Eriol chuckled. His midnight eyes danced. "Sakura-chan," he bowed and kissed her hand. "I wouldn't dream of being so absentminded."

The green eyed lady giggled softly. Eriol turned to the man standing beside her. "Li-san," he addressed him.

The man had strangely familiar fierce brown eyes and messy chestnut hair. He was dressed extremely well in a black tuxedo of an indescribable material. He was tall and almost towered over the two women standing beside him.

"Hiiragisawa-san," he said simply and gave a light nod.

"Daidouji-san," Eriol turned to the woman with lustrous ebony hair. Something inconceivable flashed through his blue eyes. "It's good to see you again," he bowed, perhaps a bit more deeply than customary, but he did not touch her.

The young woman only smiled. She had dazzling lavender eyes with a touch of midnight gray. She wore a dark violet high neck dress gown of wispy satin. She did not wear any jewelry except for the single amethyst chain intertwined elegantly with her long raven hair, which sat loosely aloft her head. While such a sullen ensemble would diminish most beauty, her enigmatic splendor was accented by the dark hues. Her pale skin was a sharp contrast to her dark lashes and her ambiguous countenance.

Eriol suddenly turned away from this vision of cryptic lavender. He took her hand and pulled her closer to the group. He smiled almost boyishly. "I would like you to meet Chantal Minerva," he announced to the group. "My fiancée."

Chantal smiled with all the warmth she could muster as the three pairs of eyes exchanged astonished glances. "Eriol have told me so much about you all," she said in her majestic tone. "It is an honor to finally meet you."

The tension in the air was thick that it was fit to be served on bread. She felt quite odd; being studied so meticulously. Three pairs of eyes glanced from her to Eriol and back again.

She could understand their disbelief. She did not expect Eriol to tell them about her earlier. She did not expect them to accept her relationship with Eriol either.

Finally, it was Sakura who broke the dreadful reticence. She stepped forward and took Chantal's gloved hands into her own. "I am delighted to meet you!" she exclaimed in her sparkling voice. "Any friend of Eriol-kun is a friend of our own." She smiled with reassuring warmth. Her green eyes gleamed with sincerity. She turned to the browned haired man to her right. "Isn't that so, Syaoran?" she raised one elegantly arced eyebrow.

"Yes. A pleasure," he said in a callous tone. His brown eyes flickered dangerously and he looked as though he wanted to hit someone. He steadied his glare at Eriol, who seemed to be impervious to it all.

Just as the raging silence was about to envelop them once more, Tomoyo stepped forward. "Pleased to meet you, Minerva-san," she spoke for the first time that night. Her voice was the voice of a thousand angels and it seemed to ruffle through the air. She smiled in her own captivating way, which was sure to make men swoon.

There was a sort of discreet desperation in the way she held herself that moment. Her amethyst eyes fluttered from Chantal's golden orbs to Eriol's glacial blue ones, only her gaze lingered within those cerulean depths more than she usually allowed.

Chantal returned that smile with her own soft, tantalizing laugh. "Thank you," was all she said. She looked at all of them amiably. She did not say more, for there was nothing left to say.

Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata suddenly began in the background. The soft ominous piano chords sounded through the air bringing with it a new uneasiness. The buoyant, gay images of the ball seemed to fade away suddenly. All that's left now was a hollow torture within a sea of purple, blue, gold, and red.

Chantal knew then --- standing in this circle of five, within the tangled strings of fate --- that paradise was no more.

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Author's Notes: Please keep in mind that the romance between Eriol and Tomoyo comes much later. 'Forsaken' is more of a portrait of Clow/Eriol and Cecilia/Chantal as opposed to Eriol and Tomoyo. However, Tomoyo does play a _huge_ role in this story. There was some appalling foreshadowing throughout this first chapter, especially between Eriol and Tomoyo.

Just to be clear, Chantal (the woman in white) is a character of my own creation. She is one of the major characters in this story.

Please don't give up on this story now! I know you must all hate me for giving Eriol a fiancée and leaving Tomoyo out. You will see where the plot takes them in the next few chapters.

Please review before you leave.


	3. The Intangible Redundancy of Time

When old age shall this generation waste,  
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe  
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,  
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," --- that is all  
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

_Ode on a Grecian Urn_, John Keats

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( Two ) _________________________ The Intangible Redundancy of Time

Dinner in the Blue Formal Dining Room of the Reed Manor had been completely uneventful thus far.

Eriol was seated at the head of the long rosewood table with Chantal, Sakura, Syaoran, and Tomoyo sitting about him. The variety and wealth of the blue decor articulated the sapphire hue of his eyes.

The walls were covered in silk with a blue floral design. The ceiling was embellished with pure gold patterns set on white paint. An array of smaller coronas dropping down from the high ceiling lit the chamber in a shower of silver light. The west wall comprised of two tall windows hidden by heavy blue velvet curtains with gold trims. The chamber was contemporarily designed in a manner that echoed antique grotesques.

Sakura was doing a splendid job of keeping all forms of conversation away from any touchy subjects. She was able to skillfully direct the dialogue from the English weather to current world affairs. Eriol was being surprisingly cooperative. He was commenting colorfully to each new topic as if he was unaware of Sakura's control over the atmosphere. Chantal, Syaoran, and Tomoyo decided wisely to remain quiet.

"After we married, Syaoran and I had spent the first few years in Hong Kong. Until he was finally inducted as Clan leader, of course," Sakura was saying as she picked at the shrimp cocktail served elegantly in martini glasses.

"The Elders had insisted for Syaoran to take over Li Enterprises last winter," she continued. "And we have been on the move ever since. Overseeing international branches of the company and whatnot."

"Is that so?" Eriol said with mocked astonishment. He looked at Syaoran who was struggling to look calm. "I never knew of my cute descent to be a capitalist," he smirked as color started to show on Syaoran's handsome face.

Sakura nodded brightly. "Syaoran is very good at managing the company. In fact, the Li Enterprises stocks have been doing much better since he took charge," she turned to look at her husband and smiled proudly at him.

Eriol laughed aloud. "Sakura-chan," he said deciding to change the subject. "Tell me, what have you been up to recently?"

"Travelling," she replied. "New York City, Sydney, Rome, Madrid... I can't seem to keep track of it all," Sakura giggled softly. "I've seen so many pictures and movies, read so many stories of different cities and landmarks that travelling seemed almost pointless. But it's different. It's so different when you are standing there with the people, the food, and the language."

Eriol nodded. "I have had my own share of wanderlust as well."

"Do you travel often, Eriol-kun?" Sakura asked, her green eyes gleamed with fascination.

"Quite a bit actually," he replied with a wry grin.

"Oh?"

"I've been all over Europe, the Americas, Asia; countless different countries." he was saying as he mentioned with his hand. "I used to travel frequently. I never stayed in one place for more than a month or so. Drifting from one place to another, it was quite a lifestyle."

Sakura smiled and waited for him to continue.

"In fact," Eriol said and turned to look at Chantal, who was seated closest to him. "I met Chantal during my travelling."

Tomoyo's fork stopped in midair. She looked up at him for the first time that evening. Her lavender eyes settled upon him and she frowned slightly. She put down her fork gently. She turned to him with her full attention.

A vicious silence hung in the air. The casual pretense Sakura had worked so hard to maintain had been utterly shattered. Four pairs of eyes were all on Eriol.

Sensing the tension, Chantal gave a light laugh. "Oh stop it, Eriol," she forced a smile but her golden eyes flashed warningly.

"Do tell," Tomoyo suddenly spoke from the far end of the table. Breaking all the rules of courtesy, she continued. "How did you two meet?"

The raging quiet returned. Eriol's sapphire orbs leveled with Tomoyo's intent gaze. His glacial eyes flickered. Her amethyst eyes never yielded to their coldness.

"Eriol-kun," Sakura began, trying to break the tacit fury looming around them.

"We met in Venice, Daidouji-san," Eriol replied smoothly. "The Duke of Savoy had invited me to his 56th birthday celebration. Since Clow Reed owned a beautiful Venetian villa there, I decided to stay and catch up with my Italian associates. Ultimately, it was the Prince of Naples who introduced us."

Breaking his gaze over Tomoyo, he turned to Chantal and smiled. "The moment I met her, I knew," he murmured.

"I see," Tomoyo replied. Her eyes flickered from Eriol to Chantal.

"How have you been the past few years?" Eriol asked. His turned to look at her once again; he challenged her.

She crocked her head and smiled bitterly. A strand of raven hair fell into her lavender eyes. "I opened my own fashion boutique a few years ago," she replied. "The boutique had been expanding ever since. Actually, I opened new branches in Milan and Paris recently."

Sakura visibly relaxed, for the tension had left the air. "A princess in Greece had actually just asked Tomoyo-chan to design her wedding gown," she added and smiled brightly.

Eriol chuckled. "You've made quite a life for yourself, Daidouji-san," he said. "I wonder if---"

The sharp sound of a chair scrapping against the wooden floor interrupted him. Syaoran had suddenly stood up in alarm. Four pairs of eyes looked to him.

"Can you sense that?" he asked breathlessly. His voice was tight and urgent. His usual handsome face was troubled.

"No," Sakura replied. "I don't sense anything."

"Neither do I," Eriol said as he stood up. "What is it you are sense, my cute descent?"

Syaoran shot him an acid stare. "Magic," he said. "Very strong magic. It's close." Syaoran quickly made his way to the windows on the west wall. He threw back the velvet curtains to reveal a spectacular view of the night sky and the manor gardens.

His eyes scanned the vicinity. "He's here," Syaoran announced. His amber eyes darkened.

"I don't sense anything," Sakura said as she walked to Syaoran's side. Her familiar blithe countenance became bewildered. "Are you sure you are sensing magic?"

"Yes," Chantal suddenly spoke. Four pairs of eyes settled upon her in incredulity. She turned to Eriol and gave him the most heartbreaking look.

"He has returned," was all she said.

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Author's Notes: Okay, it's getting there. I hope you can see the tension between Tomoyo and Eriol. You will get to know more about that in the next chapter. The main objective in this chapter was to give you a little background on what Sakura, Syaoran, Tomoyo and Eriol have been doing in the past few years. Mainly, I wanted the readers to know how Chantal and Eriol met.

I am really pushing the plot along in this chapter. I was actually going to introduce the major conflict in the next chapter but I thought it would be more interesting to leave you guys hanging for while.

The designs and details of Eriol's manor (The Reed Manor) were based on The Catherine Palace in Russia. The palace was the home of Empress Catherine II and numerous Russian Czars in the past. Since 1918, the Palace was made into a museum and was maintained as one ever since.

The Duke of Savoy mentioned in this chapter is the formal title for the king of Italy. Prince of Naples is the formal title of the crowned prince of Italy.

Please review before you leave.


	4. Visions of Scarlet and Ashes of Roses

Once upon a year gone by, she saw herself give in  
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw what could have been  
Well nothing hurts and nothing bleeds when covers tucked in tight  
Funny when the bottom drops, how she forgets to fight

_Paradise_, Vanessa Carlton

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( Three ) _________________________ Visions of Scarlet and Ashes of Roses

Tomoyo could not believe it was happening.

Magic had not been an active part of her life since her childhood. Sakura had sealed away the deck after the capture of the Hope card. Tomoyo had not been involved in a magic induced event ever since. She did not understand why Syaoran was so worried. There was only a handful of people in the world who possessed magic, but none of them could possibly by stronger than Sakura. She did not know how a magical presence could appear so spontaneously.

Everyone, saved Tomoyo, was standing now. The gaiety of the dinner party was utterly shattered. The air was so somber with tension that she almost believed they'd choke on it. No one spoke but it was certain that some sort of tacit agreement had already been made.

Sakura's verdantly green eyes were sullen and troubled. Tomoyo saw her reach out to Syaoran who seemed to be the one most effected by the ominous presence. Eriol and Chantal exchanged pregnant glances.

She could sense that something had gone terribly amiss. She cleared her throat politely. "If you don't mind my asking," she began quietly, afraid to upset the silent foreboding around them.

"Tomoyo-chan," Syaoran interjected smoothly. "It is too dangerous for you to stay with us any longer. You will have to stay here while the rest of us search the manor."

Pushing back her blue velvet covered chair, she stood up in one graceful motion. "I certainly will not," she stated simply. She smoothed her creamy pearl-laced skirt. "I will not stand aloof as you risk your lives to confront this _thing_."

"You have no choice," Eriol replied. His sapphire eyes saddened as he looked at her. "I do not wish to see you in harm's way," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"No," Tomoyo repeated with much more conviction. "No, I will not stand for it."

Suddenly, a poignant crash sound was heard. The sharp bang echoed throughout the entire mansion with an uncanny resonance. Sakura let out a piercing shriek at the abrupt sound. She clung even closer to Syaoran.

Eriol rushed out of the dining hall in a flash. He beckoned to Chantal to follow suite. Sakura, who was completely beside herself by this point, held on to Syaoran as they accompanied Eriol out the large white double doors of the Blue Formal Dining Room.

Chantal stopped at the door before disappearing outside. "Daidouji-san," she said. Her golden eyes seemed to smile ruefully at her.

Tomoyo nodded and the two women headed down the long corridor together. The sounds of footsteps ahead guided them down the east stairway of the Reed Manor.

"What's happening?" Tomoyo suddenly spoke. Her voice was hushed but explicit and even.

"It appears that someone had entered the manor," Chantal replied. Her voice was also calm and sonorous. "He had broken through the magic barrier around the house."

Tomoyo only nodded. She knew that they were all in terrible danger.

The gleaming marble floors ahead of them seemed endless. They were passing by dozens of doors and turns. The high arcs of the hallway were carved into the looming ceiling with beautiful crystal chandeliers hanging from the centers. Paintings of every size and subject matter lined the walls. As the dining room was blue, the hallways of the manor had taken on a dramatic theme of pure white.

The absence of color provided for a stark contrast between Chantal's black cocktail dress and Tomoyo's ivory-yellow skirt. They did not speak again until they had stopped in front of a small discreet door half hidden at the end of the corridor.

Chantal opened the bolted door quietly to reveal three figures already inside.

It was a small chamber compared the other rooms of the manor. The chamber was absent of all furniture and decor. There were no windows. It was dark except for the source of an intense flickering light, which cast shadows that danced upon the floor.

She gasped for the furthest wall was engulfed in fiery flames.

An antique oil painting was at the heart of the raging fire. It was a full size portrait of a woman dressed in a beautiful Napoleonic ball gown of voluminous silk skirts. It was the only thing in the room: the centerpiece.

The woman on the canvas was ethereally beautiful. It was a sort of timeless beauty, which remained perpetual through the transient vogue of the centuries.

She seemed almost tangible within the fusion of forged brilliance if not for her rigidity. She appeared to be almost floating, as if she existed someplace else.

She had warm amber eyes and lustrous mahogany hair. Her dress was of a brilliant scarlet adorned with rubies and golden threads. The layers of petticoats were made of the finest strips of gauze. The low-neck line displayed a stunning ruby and diamond choker around an elegant swan neck. Two matching earrings dangled gracefully from her ears. Her hair was set into a _coiffure a la dauphine_: two large curls and two curving curls on the side, held in place with a small red silk ribbon and a string of small rubies.

She was standing with her right arm raised as if beckoning to someone. A soft smile played on her cerise lips. She was a goddess of her own right and a vision of perfection.

Only now she was being eaten away by unrelenting flames. Nearly a third of the oil portrait had been inflamed, yet she was motionless. The fire threw glowing light dancing upon her pearl white skin. She was still beautiful even as the flames continued diminishing her plane of existence.

The flickering flames and her surreal presence transfixed the small group standing at her feet.

Tomoyo was strangely draw to fire. She saw the conflagration raging before her yet she could not feel its fiery warmth. The air did not smell of burnt oil. Without a second thought, she stepped towards the painting and reached out to the orange flames.

"Tomoyo!" Sakura called after her without effect.

The flames disappeared through her hands. She felt the coldness of the wall upon her palm. The fire continued as if she wasn't there. Suddenly a hand pulled her away from the pseudo-flamed engulfed wall.

The flames had eaten away more than half of the canvas now. The crimson gown had been reduced to dark cinders falling to the floor. Yet there was still something enchantingly exquisite about her like the ashes of roses.

"It's a bewitched fire, Daidouji-san," he spoke quietly to her ear from behind.

Eriol voice cut through to her like a wedge of sunlight in a shadow consumed room. "Who is she?" Tomoyo whispered with her amethyst eyes still rooted to the portrait.

"Cecilia," he replied stiffly. His voice brimmed with a certain repentance and despair. "Her name's Cecilia André."

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Author's Notes: I hope you understood that. I felt like I was rushing through the entire chapter. Okay, well, I know there must be a hundred questions swimming through your head right this moment. Patience, now. All will be revealed in good time.

There are just a couple of things I'd like to point out. Firstly, if you made the inference of that something is going on between Eriol and Tomoyo; you are absolutely right. Secondly, I hope you picked up on that little part of symbolism between Chantal's black dress and Tomoyo's yellow one. There was one from the first chapter as well, white dress verses dark lavender.

That bit of French fashion term there is referring to a type of hairstyle in the late 1700s France. And as you may have picked up by now, Cecilia is a French noblewoman.

Please review before you leave. [revised March 12, 2004]


	5. Look For the Girl with the Broken Smile

April is the cruelest month, breeding  
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing  
Memory and desire, stirring  
Dull roots with spring rain.  
Winter kept us warm, covering  
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding  
A little life with dried tubers.

_The Wasteland_, T. S. Eliot

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( Four ) _________________________ Look For the Girl with the Broken Smile

The scent of lilacs lingered in the air.

The conflagration had flickered out before them as the last of the portrait had fallen to the floor in ebony cinders. It was darker now that the flames had gone. The only source of light came from the open door, which pared a shaft of brilliant white light upon the ground.

Eriol was still standing behind Tomoyo with his hand on her right arm as if afraid she may fade away. There was a sort of controlled expression upon his handsome features. His eyes were devoid of emotion and he looked blankly ahead.

"What the hell is going on here, Hiiragisawa?" Syaoran suddenly demanded. His roaring voice sent tremors through the air.

Eriol had visibly stiffened at the question.

Sakura placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Eriol-kun," she said with her voice light and pleading. Her eyes were gleamed with a genuine affection, which scarcely softened the imminent tension in the small chamber.

Suddenly, in one fluid motion, Eriol loosen his hold upon Tomoyo and walked passed the small party, then out the open door, the sound of his footsteps resonating. His shadow had briefly obscured the white light upon the floor.

"I want a straight answer out of you," Syaoran growled almost violently. He gave Sakura an exasperated glance and quickly followed Eriol through the door with a quiet anger.

"Syaoran!" Sakura called after him with no effect. She let out a heavy breath and turned to Chantal. "If you will excuse me," she muttered softly before leaving after the two men in a flurry of green like the mohair sweater she wore. Her black silk pants flowed with her every moment as she walked away.

Tomoyo was still transfixed the to burnt painting and for moments the two women left in the room just stood there motionlessly. Chantal struggled to keep a blank expression with anguish and despair daring to seep through. She was frowning ever so slightly.

"Who was she?" Tomoyo asked abruptly and turned to make eye contact with her.

"Cecilia André," Chantal replied quietly.

Tomoyo shook her head. "No. I mean, who _was_ she, really?"

She suddenly smiled a bitter smile with her eyes glazing over. She was half hidden in the darkness in her black cocktail dress. "She was a great and terrible woman; a powerful clairvoyance," Chantal answered in a severe voice. "Cecilia... she was Clow Reed's mistress for many years."

A vicious silence settled into the air. Tomoyo lavender eyes glowed mildly as the information sank in. Her breath quickened and she turned away unexpectedly as if trying to hide something written upon her face. But she hastily looked back once more.

"What happened to them?" she asked quietly. Her eyes seemed to quiver under the dim light of the room.

Chantal cocked her head sideways to study Tomoyo and bit her lip. "Circumstances," she said softly as if the word meant everything.

Tomoyo nodded, understanding. Almost absentmindedly, she raised a hand to the string of ivory pearls upon her swan neck, brushing the soft contours only briefly. "I'm sorry," she murmured in a whisper. She reached out, tentatively, and touched Chantal's hand in sympathy and grief at the loss.

Chantal let out a light laugh. "Don't be sorry for us," she countered. "It was all in the hands of fate. What was done then is in the past now." And she let the words hang in the air for a fleeting moment. "It is I who should be sorry," she finally said.

Tomoyo frowned mildly. A look of puzzlement came onto her porcelain doll like face.

"I know..." Chantal said but paused once again. She exhaled heavily and her honey eyes flashed violently like the crashing of ocean waves. "Eriol hardly ever spoke of you. It's very unlike him for he loved to talk about his days in Japan. I know he cares for both Sakura and Syaoran deeply. He'd go on for hours about the little things you have all done together."

Tomoyo nodded as Chantal hesitated again.

"I know that you and Eriol have had some sort of understanding," she said at last. "And I'm deeply sorry for I stand in the way of that. It must be very painful. For both of you."

"What was done then is in the past now," Tomoyo replied, echoing Chantal's previous statement. A certain intangible sadness appeared in her brilliantly amethyst eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said again and looked away.

"When we were... when Eriol and I were together," Tomoyo said. "He saved me and I must be a terrible person for saying so, especially to you."

Chantal smiled with not a trance of animosity or resentfulness upon her face. "No, not at all."

"Minerva-san, I was..." she mentioned with her hands. "Perhaps I still am. But it is irrelevant now. I'm happy and this was the gift he had given me. I have no regrets, so don't be sorry."

"Then I'm glad," Chantal replied. She reached out and placed a hand on Tomoyo's arm. "I hope we can be friends, Miss Daidouji. Our history notwithstanding."

Tomoyo took a moment to weigh the words. "Yes, I would like that," she decided. "And I'm glad as well."

A sudden draft from the open door swept into the room, lifting the embers of scarlet with it. The pieces of black floated in the air and swirled and twirled with the current; dancing like the ashes of roses.

"Tell me. Minerva-san, if you don't mind my asking," Tomoyo began after a brief respectful silence. "How did it end for her?"

Chantal studied Tomoyo with her electrifying golden eyes. "Do you believe in redemption, Miss. Daidouji?" she asked with a bitter smile.

"I wish I do," was her answer. "Many things can be fixed in this world. But people: they stay the same."

Chantal nodded content with her response. "You see, Miss. Daidouji," Chantal continued. "I've done many things in my last life which I am not proud of. I've erred terribly; sinned even. I have betrayed many and renounced others. I gave much sorrow to those who've loved me. And what is it they say? 'Let the ends justify the means.' And in the end, I had forsaken everything to restore and salvage. But there was a terrible price. There always was a great and terrible price."

The silence had returned. Tomoyo looked aghast by her words but she remained unpronounced waiting for her to finish.

"I think that perhaps you are right, Miss. Daidouji," Chantal finally said after a prolonged reticence. "People are too tainted to be redeemed. It is a shame, no? For I had always wanted to unbreak that fine china vase of Eriol's, which I had shattered accidentally."

Tomoyo's expression softened. She shook her head lightly. "People can always be forgiven, Minerva-san," she replied. "Do you believe that?"

"Yes," Chantal replied shortly. "But is that enough?"

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Author's Notes: Please excuse my appalling attempt to interject something meaningful into this chapter. I hope you understood that. Philosophy had always fascinated me. The issue of redemption and rebirth was always one that had intrigued me.

And no, I am not getting religious on you. This is not meant to be a religious story and it will not become one.

There were two things I really wanted to get across and since I constantly confuse readers I think I will just restate it. First off, Tomoyo and Eriol have a past together. Secondly, Chantal is Cecilia's reincarnation (of course). Tomoyo had already figured it out and that is why she's apologizing to Chantal. Also there are some foreshadowing throughout this chapter about the true reason behind Cecilia's leaving Clow and what happened after that. It will all be clear in the next chapter. Don't worry.

Please review before you leave.


	6. Of Contiguity and Things Unspoken

Some are born to sweet delight  
Some are born to sweet delight  
Some are born to endless night.  
We are led to believe a lie  
When we see not through the eye  
Which was born in a night to perish in a night  
When the soul slept in beams of light.

_Auguries of Innocence_, William Blake

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( Five ) _________________________ Of Contiguity and Things Unspoken

Eriol stood by the window of the Rosewood Drawing Room.

The chamber was inescapably well designed, like all the rest of the Reed Manor. The walls were covered in elegant tawny French silk and the lower portions were faced with rosewood panels. The fireplace at the middle of the east wall was decorated with a series of craved rosewood binding. On the panel shelves and many tables stood porcelain vases and fine crystal figurines. Watercolors of scenic English countryside lined the walls. Electric lamps were carefully disguised behind patterned rosewood friezes. Shafts of white light were cast down from the edges of the ceiling in a shower of brilliance.

But the grandeur of the decor was lost in the severity of the matter at hand. Eriol was motionless. The double doors behind him were still moving after his hastily entrance to the room from the chamber of the scarlet portrait. He needed to get away.

"I know your hiding something, Hiiragisawa," Syaoran announced as he walked into the room after Eriol.

There was no reply. Eriol was simply standing by the great rosewood paneled window overlooking the southern portion of the manor grounds. The heavy yellow silk curtains were pulled back. Suddenly, Eriol grasped the old bronze handles of the rosewood windowpane and pushed the huge glass window open. A draft of cool night air rushed into the warm chamber. Eriol's dark navy hair was ruffled by the sudden wind.

"Hiiragisawa!" Syaoran exclaimed in a loud voice. "What on earth?"

"It is a bit musty in here, no?" he answered. His voice was cool and collected. "I never spend much time in here. I much prefer the Amber Room. I have the most beautiful red tapestry hung up there." He smiled slightly. "I would rather like to show it to you, Li-san."

Syaoran frowned. His features became gnarled for a brief moment. "Stop it with your idle talk of extravagant pretexts," he snapped sharply.

Eriol breathed heavily. He turned away from the open window. "Very well then, my cute descendant."

Syaoran redden mildly at the comment. "Get to the point," he threw him an acidic glare.

He smiled. "Li-san, you're really something," Eriol said. In a swift moment, he settled himself into a large rosewood Victorian chair. He allowed for a long pause as if he was waiting for dramatic cello chords to come floating into the room.

There was a soft rapping at the double doors of the room and Sakura entered soundlessly.

"Sakura-chan! What timing," Eriol said with a soft chuckle. "Settling down, now. You'll want to hear this one," his tone was soft and mellow as if speaking for a child waiting eagerly for a bedtime story.

"Oh God," Syaoran muttered under his breath. "He's making a joke out of this."

Eriol folded his hand in front of him patiently. "Allow me to start from the beginning then," he finally announced dramatically with a light smirk on his face. "As you all well know, I had been the ever so wise and powerful Clow Reed in my past life, the creator of the omnipotent Clow, er, Sakura Cards and the most powerful magician ever to walk the earth. And I possess now his memories and experience--- not to mention his magic. Of course, it is only logical to conclude that---"

"Spare me the vanity, Hiiragisawa," Syaoran interrupted.

Sakura had sat down in a chair at the other side of the room. Her brown hair, which she kept loose and flowing down her shoulders, was blowing with the wind of the open window. The green sweater she wore brought out the brilliant hue of her eyes. There was something elegant and serious about the way she was sitting. Her face was void of emotions and her eyes were leveled at Eriol.

Eriol shrugged and the smile vanished. He turned to look at Sakura sitting behind Syaoran's standing form. His eyes held her emeralds orbs. "Li-san," Eriol began again addressing Syaoran while still looking at Sakura. "Clow Reed had many terrible secrets and what he had seen in the future had destroyed him. They say that ignorance is bliss. It is always easier and more painless to hold on to honeyed lies. The truth is a blinding light which only few can successfully perceive."

Syaoran nodded. "Go on."

Eriol closed his eyes for a brief moment. "His name is Thor Reed," he announced simply.

Syaoran stiffed at the words. "Who?"

"Clow's older brother, his name is Thor Reed," Eriol said again with his voice suddenly soft and severe. "And like the Clow, he is also gifted in magic. But he had his differences with the family and---"

"Bullshit," Syaoran snapped. "Clow Reed never had a brother."

"You wanted the truth," Eriol replied.

"Then don't lie to me, Hiiragisawa," Syaoran said with his voice raising dangerously.

"Syaoran," Sakura said softly from her chair across the room. "Please continue, Eriol-kun."

Syaoran breathed airily and looked away.

"I know this must be obscure to you, Li-san," Eriol said. "But Thor had been... rather a difficult person, if you will. He was stubborn and narrow-minded, down right malicious at times. He never listens and jumps into conclusions within a breath. But he was powerful and extremely intelligent. He was recklessly determined and it was his ambition that had kept him sane."

"Are you telling me that this so called Thor Reed had broken into the Reed Manor to burn that portrait?" Syaoran asked in a withering tone. "You actually expect me to believe that this man from the eighteenth century is still alive today?"

"I'm telling you the truth," Eriol said with apathy brimming in his voice.

"Damn you," Syaoran muttered. He walked towards the window and grabbed the rosewood edge with both hands. "Damn you, Hiiragisawa."

"Thor left the family when he was seventeen, claiming that he couldn't bear his parents intangible utopian ideals. His view of the world never coincided with Clow's, such a contrast, the two of them," Eriol continued as if nothing had happened.

"Thor left London and traveled to Paris. He had always been fond of the French culture. It had been just after the French Revolution, if I recall correctly," Eriol said. "Thor arrived to a France under great turmoil and social unrest after the revolution. He knew then that the people did not trust the current French government. The Directory was weak and he saw his perfect chance to raise to power. But when he met Napoleon Bonaparte, he knew that the people would just fall to their grasp. So Thor declared a truce with Bonaparte. He used his magic to ascertain the coup d'état in exchange for power. Thor thought that Bonaparte would be able to conquer the world like Alexander the great, with his help of course.

"The coup was a large success and soon Bonaparte had work his way to be the dictator with Thor as his right hand man. With his magic and conveyance, Thor helped Bonaparte when battle after battle and soon Europe was within their reach," Eriol paused for a moment. "Then, he met Cecilia. Cecilia had been the sole heiress of a wealthy French noble family and he fell madly in love with her. He courted her tirelessly. I believe that Cecilia had also fallen for Thor then. I'd also like to believe that for those brief moments that love had redeemed him.

"Thor did not know then, but Cecilia had the gift of second sight. When Cecilia foresaw the downfall of Napoleon at the battle of Waterloo, she convinced Thor to leave France. Thor was reluctant at first, but he agreed when Cecilia refused to marry him if he did not leave."

Eriol suddenly smile bitterly. "The irony of it is that the fact he left Bonaparte's campaign alone had caused his destruction. And that when he returned to England with Cecilia, the only two people he had ever trusted in his life would betrayal him."

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Author's Notes: I know this is confusing. It was suppose to be. I wanted to write a mystery when I started the story, and I plan on following through with that. Cecilia, Clow, and Thor had an amazingly complicated history and it will be made clear later in this fic. I'm really pushing the plot here a bit. I wrote this entire chapter within two hours so I think I've rushed through a good bit of it.

I made up that bit about Thor being in the French Revolution and helping Napoleon to power. In truth, Napoleon had been a exceedingly ambitious person and it was his own faults that led to his downfall. I had in fact written an entire thesis paper on Napoleon's personality and its effect on his military campaigns. Thor, however, is a character of my creation and he was not in the actually French Revolution and did not know Napoleon.

Bonaparte was Napoleon's first name. I made Eriol to refer him by his lesser-known name to show that Eriol or rather the Clow was not afraid of Napoleon and did not exalt Napoleon for his military genius.

Please review before you leave.


	7. A Whiter Shade of Pale

The darkness drops again; but now I know  
That twenty centuries of stony sleep  
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,  
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,  
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

_The Second Coming_, William Butler Yeats

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( Six ) A Whiter Shade of Pale

The words remained unformed and defective at the back of her throat.

Eriol had paused his sullen narrative to allow for Tomoyo and Chantal to settle into the room. He was sitting in an oversized rosewood chair. Its surface was soft and lustrous under the light from the ceiling with a tall back of fine swirling carvings. He was sitting in a careless manner, almost translucent and artless. The moonlight streaming in from the open window made his dark hair glow.

His right arm was propped up upon the armrest and he leaned sideways with his head inclined against his closed fist. His face was controlled and callous, as it always was, but his eyes were hollow as though they have lost all meaning. His lips were pursed into a tight line and he almost frowned.

Tomoyo was subtlety alarmed by Eriol's saturnine countenance. She drew in a heavy breath for she knew of what to come. The double doors behind her slammed shut. She flinched at the sound.

Eriol seemed to be unperturbed by the sudden uneasiness in the air. "It was late April," he finally said. His voice was collected and resonant. "It was late April when Cecilia arrived in England with Thor. Clow met them at the main London port. It was a beautiful day; the sky was so blue that it ached; and uncommonly warm for the English weather. And there she was, standing upon the pier in a magnificent sundress of yellow organza."

He paused as if to search for better words. "Cecilia was a beautiful woman. It was not a surprise that Thor loved her. It was not a surprise, either, that Clow fell in love with her as well."

"You see, Thor and Clow never did see eye to eye, but Thor did care deeply for his brother. Despite his disputes with their parents, Thor had always kept in touch with Clow. In fact, Clow was the first one to know about Thor's relationship with Cecilia. Clow knew that Thor had devoted himself completely to her and that they were to marry soon. Knowing this, he kept his distance."

Eriol's sapphire eyes seemed to be concentrating at a spot on the floor near Syaoran. "But some things were inevitable, and there was no escaping this," he paused yet again. "I think Cecilia always knew, deep down, that Thor had a darker side. Perhaps it was due to a volatile mix of Eastern and Western magic, or maybe because of his ambitious and passionate nature. From an early age, Thor was very, shall I say, interested in matters surrounding Armageddon; the final judgement day. As he grew older, his hobby became an obsession."

"At some point, Thor came to his own conclusions about the end of the world. He believed that Armageddon was the final stage leading to The Rebirth. In the end, good and evil will ultimately destroy each other; neutralize and cancel each other out. The Rebirth is the prelude to a universe where good and evil are irrelevant. The New World Order he called it. Where day and night are seamless; hot and cold, big, small; soft, hard; everything will intertwine and seep into one."

"Symmetry was extraneous, like a circle. Perfect and flawless, equilibrium and balance were utterly shattered and rendered useless. And Thor dedicate the rest of his life in search of his New World Order."

"It was his philosophy which created a rift between him and the family. The entire basis of the lives of the Reeds were based on the only constant --- the perpetual clash between good and evil --- and Thor's logic defeated the family's purpose completely. He thought that Napoleon had the power to unite the entire world. He thought that Bonaparte's campaign will surely bring upon a bloody worldwide war leading to Armageddon and The Rebirth."

"But then love happened. Cecilia saved him from his own obsessions; it was as simple as that."

Eriol stood up then, in one swift practiced motion. He pushed his right hand through his dark hair. The light showering down from the ceiling captured him in one transient moment. His sapphire eyes had suddenly taken on a nigrescent hue.

Tomoyo almost shuddered at the tactic despair brimming in his gaze. She could not remember seeing his eyes so hollow and somber that nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Eriol inhaled --- or perhaps exhaled, Tomoyo couldn't quite tell --- heavily. He moved to stand beside Syaoran in front of the open window. He did not look at him and stared blankly ahead to the gray night sky.

He began once more, "Then on the night before her wedding, Cecilia had a premonition."

"She saw a lush green meadow engulfed in flames. It was a great conflagration and it burned until nothing was left but scorches in a wasteland. From the ashes raised two thunderbirds. As they flew, one bird shed its black feathers into a breast of lovely white brilliance. When the transformation was done, the black bird dove into the another. There was so much blood, from both birds."

"The entire charred meadow was covered in scarlet blood. Until the white feathers were crimson and the black bird was moribund. And the duel was not yet done."

"Cecilia did not see their conclusion but she made a prophecy that night."

Eriol hesitated. "The next morning, Cecilia contacted Clow. She knew that the prophecy related to Thor and Clow was the only one who had the power to help. When Cecilia told Clow of her dream, Clow immediately knew that it referred to The Rebirth. But Cecilia never knew of Thor's theory until Clow reluctantly imparted to her. Cecilia was appalled by the New World Order and she knew that Thor had the ability to bring upon Armageddon."

"Despite her initial denial, Cecilia soon realized the cataclysmic bearing of her prophecy. She knew she needed to choose between aiding Thor to his eventual destruction of the world or to help Clow stop him."

"Cecilia was a women of reason and logic. She was particularly well educated for a female of her time. But she believed in redemption, not a total renaissance. She did not resent the world like Thor. She knew she could never be able to murder and destroy. Alas, in the end, she backed out of the wedding and left London with Clow."

Words were utterly lost upon Eriol, now. His voice started to break, yet he continued regardless. "Thor was furious. He had gone mad with rage. Cecilia had meant everything to him yet she had betrayed him. The only two people Thor had ever loved and trusted him, the both of them had forsaken him."

Total silence enveloped the chamber. The uncanny stillness seemed to almost echo the irony in Eriol's words. Eriol closed his eyes and looked away. His breathing slowed.

Sakura had stood up too, from the other end of the room. She appeared at his side immediately. She placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she murmured softly.

Syaoran shifted on his feet. The hardness seemed to have washed away from his face. He was frowning now, in an almost tender and sympathetic manner. The question lingered at the back of his throat. "What is this prophecy you spoke of?" he finally asked quietly.

Eriol did not offer a reply. Instead it was Chantal who spoke for him: "A star shall fall to undo all wishes. / Fate judged and now relinquished. / Then two thunderbirds shall fly to eternity. / And chase and seek for immortality. / Forever beguiled thee and now forgiveth."

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Author's Notes: I liked this. The little prophecy rhyme thing took me about two days to get to where it is now. Trying to rhyme in blank verse is not easy, you know! After a while I sort of just gave up on it. Read it out loud for me, does it actually flow smoothly?

This chapter took me a very long time to put together. I've actually started the chapter while I was writing the last chapter and well, here it is: the entire backdrop of Forsaken. Look for more details between Clow, Cecilia and Thor as the story progresses.

Rebirth vs. Redemption will become a very important theme, so be on the lookout for more references on that from the later chapters.

Eriol got a little emotional at the end of his narrative, don't know if you picked up on that. I made up at part with The Rebirth and New World Order, I don't think it is from any current religions. However, redemption/rebirth is a huge theme in many religions, although this fic is not suppose to be religious I can't help to throw in some allusion to the bible (its just all too common in literature).

The epigram at the beginning of this chapter (the excerpt of the poem) was from _The Second Coming_ by Yeats (one of the greatest poets of the twentieth century --- I can't help but be a bit bias), if you know the poem, its quite famous actually. Anyhow, the poem is about Armageddon, the Final Judgement, etc. It has a lot to do with Thor's philosophy... if you are really desperate to find out more (which I'm so very sure you are --- oh, please excuse my sardonic humor) about it, then I would suggest you to look up the poem.

Please review before you leave.


	8. A Taste of Ambrosia for the Gods

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,  
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,  
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,  
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

_The Raven_, Edgar Allan Poe

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( Seven ) A Taste of Ambrosia for the Gods

Morning swept onto the Reed Manor like a veil of gold paint.

Breakfast was set out in the solarium --- a relatively small room with walls of glass --- amongst the brilliant tropical flowers. The glass ceiling was half covered by green ivy vines and scattered morning glories of white, pink and purple. The sunlight poured in like water. A large arrangement of flowers was set across the room. Pots of various equatorial plants of brilliant rainbow colors were strewn throughout the walls and set upon the simple furniture: orchids of vivid sunset hues, snow white lilies, blooming dendrobiums, scarlet oncidiums, pink mokaras, and purple cattleyas. It was as much of a tropical greenhouse as a relaxing sunroom.

A commodious circular bronze table sat in the center of the tiled floor with its rigid wire frame coiling and swirling into curls and elaborate floral arrangements. The table was matched by a set of six bronze chairs of the same rigid frame and design. White porcelain china painted with faint blue flowerets was placed conveniently around the table.

A large array of fruits, breads, and beverages was displayed; yellow papayas and mangos, red fresh picked strawberries and raspberries, black blueberries, green sliced kiwis, various cuts of melons, and grapes of different colors. It was a far more extravagant meal than what was usually expected in the morning hours.

Eriol sat in the far corner in an area of shade beneath the green vines. He was motionless. His eyes remained stationed at a region beyond the glass confinements of the solarium. He was dressed modestly for a warm autumn morning in a fine white linen shirt, loosely buttoned, and a pair of black slacks, delicately made. He dressed surprisingly casual, indicating a certain carelessness. His hair was slightly disheveled and redness came over his eyes.

Tomoyo watched him from beyond the open door. She had spent the night at the Reed Manor after much persuasion from Chantal. She had reluctantly assented to it. And she was pleasantly surprised by the commodity of the manor. The maids have been kind and amicable enough and she felt a sense of welcome from the mansion walls itself.

Upon her waking this morning, Tomoyo had been escorted from her guest suite to the solarium for breakfast by one of the many butlers roaming around the manor. But she had dismissed him shortly, insisting that she could manage on her own. The manservant had been indisposed and persisted to give Tomoyo detailed directions to the sunroom. She grateful now, for she finally realized the great complexity and elaborateness of the manor designs.

"Good morning, Hiiragisawa-san," she greeted from the entrance.

Attentiveness flashed through his handsome features. "Why, good morning Daidouji-san," he returned. He smiled. "You've slept well, I trust."

"Yes, I have," she nodded. "And you?"

"Like a baby," he declared readily with a hint of amusement.

She did not believed him for the dark circles around his eyes. She nodded nonetheless. "How long have you been up?" she asked instead.

He threw a thoughtless glance at his platinum-incased wristwatch. "A while now, I suppose."

Silence dawned over the short-lived conversation. Tomoyo shifted uneasily in her seat. "Where is Minerva-san? If I may ask?" she finally said.

"I believe she's still sleeping," he mused. "Chantal never liked the morning much. Besides, she's been up very late last night. I think its only fair to let her have her share of rest. Well actually, I wouldn't dare wake her when she's not ready," he chuckled. "She can be rather unapproachable, shall I put it lightly, in the mornings."

Tomoyo smiled in response and decided not to inquire the reason behind their late night vigil.

"Well, Daidouji-san, it appears only I will have the delightful opportunity of dining with you this fine morning," he announced presently.

"What do you mean?"

"Sakura-chan and Li-san had left for your hotel earlier to retrieve their luggage and whatnot. They have decided to remain here at the manor for the rest of their stay in England as my honorable guests. It is safer this way, I can assure you," he said pleasantly---perhaps too pleasantly---as he reached out to pour tea into Tomoyo's cup. "Earl Grey with no sugar, if my memory serves me?" he asked.

She nodded. "But---?"

"I took the liberty of informing Sakura-chan that you would be staying here as well. I do hope you won't be furious with me, my dear. But I couldn't take the chance of you refusing this offer. I would very much like you to stay. In fact, it would serve both Chantal and I great pleasure if you would remain with us. It would be our honor." He spoke in a flourish of words so hastily that Tomoyo did not have time to react. "What do you say to it? I do beg of you to stay."

Tomoyo wanted to laugh out loud. She hid her wide smile behind her cup as she raised it to her lips. "How could you, Hiiragisawa-san?" she gasped in false anger. "That was terribly rude and inconsiderate of you. You are horribly ill-mannered and a lair at that!"

A brilliant grin appeared upon his lips. "Guilty as charged, my dear," he consented in a boyish tone. "It is a fair assessment of the situation, I should think. But we, Chantal and I, can't do without you, you see. I am terrible, but only as a product of my great devotion to you."

"So you won't deny it?" she smiled openly now. "Oh, how dreadful of you! Now you've seduced me into staying! You are awfully spiteful. I shall never speak to you again! I abhor you, Hiiragisawa-san."

"That was very cruel, Daidouji-san, you wound me. Do you wish to kill this poor big heart of mine?" he exclaimed dramatically and clutched at his chest in feigned pain.

She let out a pile of silvery laughter. "Hiiragisawa-san," she reached out and placed her hand upon his. She smiled graciously. "I wouldn't dare. Your poor big heart is far too precious. And I would be honored to be your guest; really and truly."

He was silent for a moment. His eyes studied her critically. "I adore you, Daidouji-san, so very much," he finally said.

Her cheeks colored. In a sudden movement, she removed her hand from his as if she had touched burning coal. She turned away. "Don't say that," she said in a voice barely audible.

"I think you are beautiful, Daidouji-san. Is that so terrible of me?" he pursued.

Her eyes of burning amethyst flashed. "Yes. Yes, it is very terrible of you. You're _engaged_, Hiiragisawa-san. Does that even mean anything to you anymore?" she began in a severe voice. "You are to marry the women you've loved for two lifetimes. Don't you think I know that? But you've lost your place to preach about my beauty a long time ago."

He did not yield to her advances. "Chantal mean the world to me, if you must know."

"Good!" she agreed in a voice perhaps a notch too loud. "I'm glad we are on the same page now." Her eyes flashed dangerously.

He was frowning now, only slightly. "We both know the question on the tip of your tongue. Why don't you just say it out loud?"

She had been stirred her tea rigorously with a silver spoon. It made a loud crashing sound as she set it down again. Her eyes beheld his callous sapphire orbs. She hated the way he was manipulating her. She wanted to ignore his words but she felt her own anger and curiosity bubbling intently.

"Did you leave me for her?" she finally asked. Her voice was a monotone, clear and decisive, without a trace of animosity or passion.

His face was expressionless but his eyes softened. "Tomoyo," he spoke her name softly. "I was faithful to you, if that's what you mean. I was devoted to you, and you only. I was _always_ faithful."

She drew in a heavy breath. "You didn't answer my question," was all she said.

He looked away for a moment as to ponder the question. "Yes and no," he finally said. "I was happy with you, Tomoyo. I really was. You are a wonderful woman and for a time I wouldn't have given you up for anything," he paused. "But I had promises to keep. Do you understand?"

"The prophecy," she breathed.

"Yes, the prophecy. As much as I loved you, Tomoyo, I couldn't be selfish enough to sacrifice the world. For that was the price, you see, I had to choose between the world and you."

"And you chose the world," she provided.

He nodded. "I'm sorry, Tomoyo. It had to be done. Cecilia gave up her everything to save the world and now it is my redemption to do the same. It was Clow's last wish."

"But you are not Clow," she murmured softly. Her amethyst eyes shone with glistening teardrops, threatening to fall.

"That may be so," he said as he reached out to her. "But it is my obligation." He wiped away her tears. "It was never a matter of choice, Tomoyo. I never wanted to leave you."

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Author's Notes: This chapter had been thoroughly enjoyable to write and I hope you have read it with as much esteem. I finished most of the chapters in one afternoon so I hope it flowed better than some of my before chapters. The language used in the dialogue between Tomoyo and Eriol is very much inspired by Henry James (a brilliant American author who wrote both _Daisy Miller_ and _The Portrait of a Lady_, absolutely wonderful books). I was actually re-reading _Daisy Miller_ the day I wrote this, and I was utterly motivated to write that like. It also has a very distinct Victorian flair, which was fun to write, to say the least, but have no particular bearing in significance.

The chapter is entitled "A Taste of Ambrosia for the Gods" because it reflects the 'price' Eriol paid. Ambrosia is the divine food of the Greek gods. It was said that any moral who had a taste of it would claim immorality. Ambrosia, of course in this case, represents the price of redemption, and immorality as it was said in the prophecy (more on the prophecy later in the story). The gods represented fate, which dictated Eriol's actions.

I used this chapter to let you better understand the relationship between Eriol and Tomoyo. Eriol loves Tomoyo, or did love. And Tomoyo loves him back. However Eriol also loved Cecilia/Chantal because he's half Clow.

Some bogs things are happening next chapter, but I', afraid it might be a long while before I update again. Bear with me, my darlings, I promise that ever though Eriol and Tomoyo are not a couple now, they will be on at the end of this fic. I had the plot planned out from the beginning, so I can assure that everything will fall into place.

Please review before you leave.


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Card Captor Sakura, Drama, Romance